


you take my breath away, darling

by HallowedWren



Series: Geralt Fluff Week [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (just a few puncture wounds and getting his breath knocked out), First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Rated teen and up for language, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, dragon!Jaskier, ngl i kept making myself smile while writing and editing this lol, no beta we die like renfri, very small hurt tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedWren/pseuds/HallowedWren
Summary: For Geralt Fluff Week: Day OnePrompt: first times(first kiss)Loving Geralt was the easiest thing he'd ever done.Easier than fleeing his overbearing family.Easier than deciding to become a bard.Easier than leaning down for one more kiss before returning to his spot in Geralt's arms. The one place he'd always fit, and always be welcome.--In which Jaskier gets hurt, Geralt panics, and they kiss
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Fluff Week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859155
Comments: 8
Kudos: 290
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	you take my breath away, darling

**Author's Note:**

> just a forewarning, this is the first fic i've published  
> not beta-ed, so any and all mistakes are mine  
> im still working on the second fic, so the other six will just be posted as they get finished

This time, it wasn’t because Jaskier got too close to the fight.

No, this time, the fight came to _him_. Finally, it wasn’t his fault! (well, okay. almost all of his injuries were _technically_ his fault, but it’s the principle of the thing!)

Jaskier couldn’t even remember the type of monster it was. The name was clunky, and would have been almost impossible to rhyme with, so there was no point in keeping it in mind.

Whatever the thing was, it was _big_. And ugly, as all monsters are.

Jaskier didn’t exactly get much time to examine it before it came crashing into their campsite, either drawn by the campfire, or destiny, or just plain bad luck.

He felt a small spike of fear and adrenaline, but as soon as he saw Geralt right on its tail, he knew for sure, there was no danger.

Even so, he’s not a fucking idiot. He still scrambled to his feet, grabbed his darling lute, and did his best to stay on the opposite side of their camp.

Unfortunately, luck was not on their side today.

The creature focused in on Jaskier, and sprinted toward him. He barely had time to gently toss his lute away—so it wouldn't get absolutely _pulverized_ —before the monster barreled into him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him there with sharp claws piercing his side.

His first thought was _Thank Melitele I hadn’t taken it out of the case yet._

His second thought was _Oh gods I can’t breathe._

No matter how many times it happens, getting knocked on your back is—to put it nicely— _not fun_. (understatement of the year)

Geralt took care of the monster immediately, but it had just enough time to slash a claw across Jaskier’s chest.

After that, all Jaskier’s brain could register was _Geralt_ , and _pain_.

He was no stranger to pain, and knew how to handle it for the most part. Unfortunately, he was focused on trying to fucking breathe.

Geralt was speaking to him, but Jaskier was still gaping like a damn fish, trying in vain to suck in _any_ air. Though, he was able to whisper-wheeze, “Breath...knocked out,” so Geralt would lose that crazed look in his eyes and know he didn’t have a punctured lung or something.

Jaskier knew what a punctured lung felt like. Compared to that, this was like getting a massage.

Still, it was a bit of a scary feeling. No matter how hard he tried, air would only go out, and he couldn’t get any back in.

Geralt picked him up, and laid him gently—always so gentle, his witcher—on his bedroll.

A few moments later, his airway opened, and air flooded his lungs with wonderful relief. He had to cough a bit to chase away the restrictive feeling that insisted on staying, but at least he could actually fucking _breathe_.

Geralt methodically stripped off his chemise and doublet—his poor doublet!—and set about cleaning his wounds, using his own waterskin and spare shirt to wipe away the blood and dirt.

Now that Jaskier could breathe normally, he found that the pain wasn’t actually so bad. The cut on his chest was relatively shallow, and the punctures in his side were clean. Thank the gods for vain monsters who maintain sharp, neat claws.

Despite this newfound relief, he was worried to see and feel Geralt’s hands trembling as he applied a healing salve. The bleeding had already begun slowing, so he stopped Geralt’s hands with his own, making Geralt look at him.

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Geralt. The worst it did was make me lose by breath. You got to it before it could do any real damage.”

Geralt nodded, but still radiated guilt as he wrapped bandages around Jaskier’s torso.

Jaskier sighed and resolved to make his wolf talk for once in his damn life. Whatever the cost.

But first, to lull him into a false sense of security.

Geralt didn’t let Jaskier do more than sit up, going so far as to _bring his lute to him_.

Sparks bloomed from the embers in his chest. “Oh! I didn’t know you liked my singing so much, Geralt!” Jaskier couldn’t hold back a smug smirk. “Could have held my baby captive,” -he wagged a finger at Geralt- “but I can see past your Dark And Brooding mask. Deep, _deeeep_ down, you’re just a ball of- of _fluff_! Like the best kind of dessert. Dark chocolate on the outside, and sweet, fluffy cream on the inside...” He hummed, imagining biting open the bitter chocolate shell into the smooth, sugary delight within. “Fuck, now I want a truffle.”

Geralt only grumbled and still wouldn’t make eye contact. But he didn’t refute the comparison! And whoever said witchers can’t blush was a lying bastard. Because—hard as he tried—Geralt couldn’t hide that his cheeks now resembled the color of a fresh cherry blossom.

_Gods, he’s so adorable._

Instead of settling on the opposite side of the fire—which miraculously survived the previous monster invasion—Geralt instead laid his bedroll so it was almost touching his.

Neither of them acknowledged this, but Jaskier knew Geralt could smell how pleased he was with this change of routine.

As the crickets began to sound, the light began to fade, they both begun to relax. While Geralt cracked open what seemed to be a fairly new book, Jaskier sang slow, peaceful songs. More akin to lullabies than what he dubbed “heartbreak songs.” Melitele knew, Jaskier _hated_ heartbreak songs. _Her Sweet Kiss_ was the first, and last, he’d ever write.

After nearly an hour, he decided it was time to strike.

He returned his lute to its case, running his fingers across the strings one last time, and faced Geralt.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

No response.

“ _Please_ tell me you understand that. You had no control over which way it ran, and you killed it. Everything turned out fine.”

He was about to continue, but it seemed Geralt’s thoughts were done waiting. He snapped his book shut and slammed it down on the ground.

“No, it’s not _fine_! You could have been killed! If I had been faster, I should have been faster, maybe taken a bit more Cat... You’re not supposed to get hurt. It’s my job to keep you safe, and if I fail once, I could fail again. What if next time, I don’t get to you in time?” Geralt was almost hyperventilating at this point. “What if you get injured worse? What if I can’t save you? What if you... _die?_ ” He whispered the last word as if it were forbidden.

Well. That was the most words Jaskier had ever heard from him at once.

“I think that was the most words I’ve ever heard from you at once. I’m impressed! But-“

Geralt glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Jaskier. We’re talking about your _life_.”

Jaskier didn’t even bother to hide the burning in his eyes.

“Oh, Geralt.” He shuffled closer, so their shoulders brushed together. “Your concern means... _everything_ , to me. But I won’t be dying anytime soon.”

Geralt cut him short again. “You’re human!” He sounded almost _frantic_ , now. “Humans grow old fast, and they slow, and then they _die!_ You’re- you’re going to leave me.” Geralt hung his head in defeat. “And there’s nothing I can do stop it.”

Jaskier really hadn’t wanted to tell him like this. But it was like coming out, there’s never a good way to do it.

He took a steadying breath.

He looked at Geralt’s defeated form.

“I’m not human.”

Geralt’s head whipped up so suddenly, Jaskier heard a pop. _Well that probably hurt._

He stared at Jaskier, silently begging for this to not be some kind of cruel joke.

“I didn’t tell you at first, because I didn’t know how you’d react. Then, it just didn’t matter. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t realized I’ve not aged since we met.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, now closely studying Jaskier’s face, searching for wrinkles and lines that weren’t there.

“I was even more surprised you didn’t figure it out, or even ask any questions, when we met Borch. You _must_ have overheard some conversations that didn’t make any sense, without context.”

At his reference to the mountain, Geralt’s guilt came back, but Jaskier plowed forward before he could apologize again.

“I’m a dragon, Geralt. Green, to be exact. Actually, I believe I’m nearly the same age as _you_. I just turned 98 last year. I won’t be dying, won’t be leaving you, any time soon.”

Geralt stopped breathing—briefly, thankfully.

“In fact, now that you know, I’ll be even harder to hurt. It’s been a little difficult to consciously let blows land without doing anything. I can shift all, or patches, of my skin to scales, which are basically impossible to pierce with human weapons. I could have jumped out the way of that monster, I saw it coming soon enough. But a human wouldn’t have been able to react that quickly. I could have shifted partway, and it wouldn’t have left a scratch. I could have killed it, even. The only reason I didn’t is because you were right there, and I trust you to take care of me. I trust you with my life, Geralt. And you _did_ take care of me, don’t go worrying yourself about a few little pokes.”

Jaskier unwrapped the bandages Geralt had applied not two hours ago. There were only small, pink scars to even show what had happened.

Geralt let his tears fall freely.

“I even heal as well as you. _Also_ surprised you never noticed that... And.. while we’re here... might as well keep the confessions going, before I lose my nerve again.” Jaskier had to pause to attempt to calm his now-racing heart.

He couldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes this time, instead staring into the beautiful fire. Fire had always been a source of comfort for Jaskier. Must be a dragon thing.

“I love you.”

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

“To be completely honest, I’ve loved you since Posada. First, I loved you as a person. Then as a friend. And now-” Jaskier closed his eyes. He could hear the waver in his voice. “Now as-” He wasn’t quite sure what to say now.

What word could possibly describe the depth of his feelings for Geralt?

Really, the only word he could think of was _mate_ , but that was a bit too strong for so soon.

Luckily (oh sure, _now_ his luck is good), he only floundered for a second before he felt calloused, gentle fingers touch his jaw, turning his head so all he could see was Geralt’s golden eyes. That were currently flickering between his gaze and his lips.

He leaned in slowly, giving Jaskier ample time to pull away.

_Like hell._

Jaskier met him halfway. When their lips met, the campfire flared a bit, but neither of them noticed, they were so enraptured by the kiss.

Geralt pulled away after a few moments, a small—kinda cute—smack of their lips the only sound. (other than the bugs and the fire and Roach, of course. but again, neither of them was paying any attention)

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. He had no idea when he had closed them.

Geralt looked at him, and-

Laughter bubbled out of Jaskier so hard suddenly, he doubled over and had to grab for Geralt’s shoulders to keep him up.

“What? What is it? Jaskier, I swear, if this whole thing was a just a sick fucking _joke_ -“

He sobered up quickly. “No no no no _no_ , my dear. I’d never joke about this. It’s just that-” he met Geralt’s eyes again and another giggle floated out. “-It’s just that. Darling. Your eyes are blown wide like a cat on the hunt!”

Geralt’s face immediately resumed its previous pink coloring.

Jaskier didn’t stop himself from kissing that beautiful flush; he _needed_ to know if his cheeks were as warm as they looked.

They were.

Geralt cleared his throat. “Uh- yeah, that- that happens, sometimes.”

His shy smile was more gorgeous than sinking into hot bath after a week of travelling.

Jaskier simply _had_ to kiss him again.

He cupped Geralt's jaw, running his thumb along the stubble there. Geralt pushed ever so slightly into his touch. “And I know you aren’t the best with words, my wolf. I don’t ever expect you to say it back. I know. Every time you give me food before taking any for yourself. When you buy me brand new shoes, or a new cloak when you notice mine’s getting worn out. I hear you, darling. I know.”

Geralt stared at him with more love in his eyes than he ever thought could be possible.

With this wonderful turn in their relationship, they shifted their bedrolls to form a crude larger one, and settled in for what was certain to be a restful night—Jaskier draped over Geralt’s chest, held as if he were the most precious of blankets.

He kissed Geralt’s neck, getting a pleased shiver in response. “I do love you. You know that, right?”

The rumble he got in response went straight to his overflowing heart.

And Geralt, for once, didn’t feel the need to argue that he couldn’t be loved. Because here Jaskier was, sharing his deepest secrets, reassuring him, _loving_ him.

“I love you, Jaskier,” he whispered.

They both drifted off to sleep, not a care in the world. As happy as they could ever be.

\--

Jaskier finally got what he had wanted for the past 15 years, at _least_.

He got to wake up in Geralt’s arms.

The humidity and rising sun meant his skin felt sticky and kinda gross, and his hair was _definitely_ a mess.

But that didn’t matter.

Because he could feel the rise and fall of Geralt’s chest beneath his head. Hear his sluggish heartbeat.

Because he could slowly sit up, running his fingers through soft white hair.

Because when Geralt’s eyes opened a moment later, he was greeted with a loving gaze and a soft smile that was just _begging_ to be kissed.

And so he did.

Because he finally _could_.

It was nothing more than a press of lips—no one wanted to taste morning breath for their first kiss of the day—but that didn’t make it any less marvelous.

Because Jaskier finally got to be with his mate.

Dragons mated for life. He was never sure what type of person he would choose to be his mate. He fell in and out of love so easily, he almost feared he’d never love anyone long enough for them to feel the same.

But, looking back, none of his past lovers even got _close_ to Geralt.

His kind, protective, _caring_ Geralt.

Loving Geralt was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

Easier than fleeing his overbearing family.

Easier than deciding to become a bard.

Easier than leaning down for one more kiss before returning to his spot in Geralt’s arms. The one place he’d always fit, and always be welcome.

“Jaskier?”

And _boy_ if feeling the vibrations of Geralt’s voice didn’t send Jaskier through the glass ceiling of how much joy could fit in one person.

“Mmyeah?”

“I was thinking...”

“Never a good thing.”

That got him a nudge.

“Well, I guess if you _don’t_ want to winter with me at Kaer Morhen, then-”

Jaskier sat back up in a flash to look at Geralt. “You’re serious?” he breathed.

The playful smirk on Geralt’s face was greater than any standing ovation.

“ _Yes_. Melitele’s tits, Geralt, I’d be _honored_! The chance to meet your family? Not to mention getting to see the beauty and history of the Keep itself! I haven’t made any promises yet to some court or another, so that won’t be a problem. When do we leave? Oh! I’ll have to purchase some heavier clothes, too. Silk doublets look _amazing_ , but they’re hardly suited for a mountain winter. Should I bring a gift? I should bring a gift. You need to tell me about your brothers and Vesemir again, I need to figure out what each of them would like best. Do you think they’ll like me? Oh gods, what if they hate dragons, or something? What if-”

“ _Jaskier_. Take a damn breath.”

He did. Then another, matching Geralt's rhythm.

“They are going to love you. And we’re not bringing a gift.”

Jaskier gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. “You can’t _possibly_ be suggesting that the pleasure of my company _isn’t_ a godsdamn gift.”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“ _Well_ then. When are we to head north?” They had been wandering southwest from Yspaden, with plans to split up for the winter somewhere near the Redanian-Kaedwen border.

“Hmm. I was planning on going down and around the Kestrels, but for your first trip up The Killer, I’d prefer for it to be before the first big snowstorm. We’ll cut through Buina’s Pass. With no distractions, we should be at Kaer Morhen in about... a month and a half.”

“Cool, cool. Uh, just one question. What was that about my first trip up something called _The Killer?_ ” His voice raised at the end, more due to concern than it being a question.

Geralt, however, did not seem fazed at all. “That’s just the name for the trail up the mountain. Don’t worry, no one’s died on it for a couple decades.”

Jaskier scoffed playfully. “Oh yeah, _that’s_ reassuring. And just how many people— _humans_ , I should specify—have made the trip in that time?”

Geralt's hesitation was answer enough, but- “I won’t let you fall. I’ve made the trip many times and in much worse conditions than we will. I promise you’ll be safe.” He sat up and wrapped Jaskier in his arms. And now he couldn’t remember what he was afraid of. Of _course_ his witcher would protect him. There really was nowhere safer he could be than at his side.

Jaskier told him such, and got an embarrassed kiss in response.

“Come on, we’re wasting daylight,” Geralt grumbled, though he didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh darling, time spent with you is _never_ wasted.” Jaskier giggled at the blush his words earned, and kissed his witcher softly, groaning when Geralt bit his lower lip. Oh, they definitely weren’t moving for at _least_ another hour.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! <3 <3


End file.
